Behind us, the stones reverted to their former position. As we stepped out from the maze's protection, the cold air assaulted us from all fronts. I shoved my hands deep inside Nathaniel's jacket, hoping that he wouldn't ask for it back.

It was around two in the morning. The sky was pitch black, with only a sliver of the moon and a light sprinkle of stars.

Nathaniel and I stood on a hill, layered with muddied snow. Below was a sea of cottages with thatched roofs. A small stream coursed through the area, looping around the small houses. At the edge of the village stood the beginning of the wall. Dim lanterns lit our path downhill, but there was no one outside. I took a step forward, only to be stopped by Nathaniel's hand on my arm.

"Not that way, Celeste."

"Which way then?"

He spun me around. A lone figure stood on the other side of the hill, away from the light and cloaked in shadows. Nathaniel gripped the package in his hand and started off. I caught up with him, almost tripping on my feet. We slowed as we neared the end and Dr. Mathers came into better focus.

He held a lantern in his hand. A sprinkle of grey colored his auburn hair, and I placed his age closer to Cookie's. He coughed into his hand before saying, "This took too long, Nathaniel."

Deep lines bracketed his mouth in displeasure. I stepped forward. "I'm sorry. It's my fault we're late. I'm new and...and—"

The rest of my sentence withered under his cold stare. His eyes seemed to hold me in contempt. I ducked my head, but I felt his presence. It wrapped around me, colder than the night could ever be. His anger was personal, but how? I didn't know him, and he didn't know me. I made sure to hide my silver hair under my hat, and my distinctive eyes shouldn't have been recognizable in the darkness.

"The package was delivered to me today, Sir," Nathaniel said. "I couldn't have gotten it to you any sooner."

"Children are dying, Nathaniel. I've lost six tonight, and the typhoid is spreading." He threw me a glance. "I don't know what's distracting you, but it needs to stop." Dr. Mathers snatched the brown package from Nathaniel's hands. Tearing the box open, he took one of the dark vials and brought it out into the light. "I needed this yesterday. What use is it to me now?"

"Citizen Principia Maximillian's tariffs are to blame, Sir. Without the added security, I would have had this a week ago. My hands are tied. I'm doing everything I can."

Dr. Mathers shook his head. "Everybody comes to me with more problems." He sighed. "Thank you for the delivery, Nathaniel. It is greatly appreciated. Come see me later tonight, without your companion."

After they shook hands, I felt Nathaniel's hand on my arm, trying to guide me away, but I resisted.

All my life, I have been fed lies about the past and distorted truths about the future. All my life, I have felt belittled and ignored. I had a chance—one chance—to discover the truth.

Before I could think, I blurted out, "Did you know Jenna Kimble, Dr. Mathers?" I felt his displeasure, his annoyance, but I forced myself to ignore it because I had to know. "She used to work at the palace."

The anger in his face reconfigured into steady impassiveness. "Yes," he said, "I knew her."

"Do you know what they say about her?"

"What are you doing?" Nathaniel asked from behind me.

"I want to know if it's true. The assassination plot. The mass execution." I looked at Dr. Mathers. "Is it true?"

His eyes were blank, and his voice was flat. "Yes, it is."

I slid down the hood of Nathaniel's coat and ripped the hat off my head, so that my kinky, silver curls floated past my shoulders. Dr. Mathers was unsurprised. He already knew who I was.

"I never knew," I said quietly.

"How would you. You were a child, and your father stopped the whispers ever since—"

"Ever since what?"

"I don't have time for this." He shook his head. "Never mind."

I stepped in his path when he would've moved away. "Please." I reached out and latched my hand around his wrist. Staring into his bright eyes, I realized he was younger than I'd first thought.

"You should return to the palace, Filia Principia," the doctor said. "You never should have brought her here, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel moved to take my arm, but I shook him off. "Please," I said again. "I deserve to know. I'm tired of the secrets and the lies. All I want is the truth."

He brushed my hand away, but made no move to turn and leave. "Ever since your nanny, Flora Williams, kidnapped you when you were five." I stared at him in shock. "For two days, the city stood still as troops searched the state. They found you alone in the Shallows, not far from the city's borders. Flora had killed herself when she heard the guards' arrival."

It was eerie feeling not remembering such a vital part of my life. I felt no connection to what he said. No remembrance. Nothing.

Vacantly, I heard Nathaniel ask, "Why would she ever try anything like that? She must've known she'd eventually get caught."

"Everyone in the village lost some friends or family in the massacre of October 15th. The division between upper and lower servants began, and those who worked at the palace became objects of derision. Life irrevocably changed for everyone, but Flora lost everyone and everything." Dr. Mathers looked at me as he said, "She had nothing else left to lose."

In a rush, the memories began to pour in.

Before I knew Cookie, there was Flora. She had dark hair and eyes. Dark skin, too, almost as dark as mine. She had a sparkling laugh, and she'd sometimes let me have ice cream for breakfast. On the days she brought the ice cream, she'd ask me questions about my life and what I'd like to do that day. And sometimes, she'd ask me questions about the palace and what happened to all the old servants who were no longer there.

The memory was so fresh and clear, as if it happened just yesterday and not years ago. As a child, I thought it was all harmless fun. Now, I knew the truth. To Dr. Mathers, I said, "I barely remember her."

"She worked for the palace for less than six months before her death," he told me.

"But—" I never had an opportunity to finish my sentence. Dr. Mathers pushed us down onto the snowy ground, and I landed on my back next to Nathaniel. With a sharp blow, Dr. Mathers extinguished his lantern, plunging us into complete darkness. "Don't move. Don't speak," he said.

I twisted from my back to my stomach in time to see a woman emerge from behind the hill. She had three figures running after her, but she was fast. With her long strides, she almost reached the beginning of the wall. My heart clenched as she increased her speed, coming closer into contact with the wall that would electrocute her at first touch. I wanted to call out a warning, but I didn't dare.

I saw the automatic guns slap the sides of her assailants and recognized them as palace guards. They were the only ones allowed to carry heavy machinery. I sheathed myself deeper into the snow, wishing I had never torn the hat from my head. 

In one or two steps, she would have reached the wall. I was prepared to cover my eyes as the currents coursed through her body, but I never had to. Just as she was about to scale the wall, an arm clasped around her waist and flipped her onto her side. 

Another man came upon her. He dragged her up as she began to rise to her feet. Stripping her of her knapsack, he forced her arms behind her back.

The winds carried her screams. I wanted to shut my eyes to her pain, but I couldn't because I recognized her voice. Even when she yelled, I heard the soft melody of Cookie's lilting voice underneath.

Nathaniel must have sensed a change in me because he surged forward to slap his hand around my mouth.

I almost gagged on my tears as I tried to silence myself. My heart called out to her as the last guard—a woman—kicked the back of her knees, and she went down with a thud.

The first man swung a fist into her stomach, and they all laughed as she groaned. Again and again, they pummeled their fists and then their boots into her body until she lay down like a dog.

I'm sorry, Cookie. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't breathe. My chest constricted, and I felt as though my lungs would collapse. Through it all, Nathaniel held me. His hand on my mouth as a physical reminder to silence my agony.

As the men grabbed each arm and dragged her back around the hill and out of sight, a cascade of apologies, silently poured from me like a broken song.

When Nathaniel finally released me, I choked on the pent-up emotion that clogged my throat.

"Where are they taking her?" I finally asked out loud.

"To your father, Filia Principia," Dr. Mathers spat out. "He likes to see their fear before the execution."